Monday, August 23, 2010

The Realization of a Puzzle.

                                                                                The Realization of a Puzzle.

“ Mm hmm 5 pm. Ok.” Ram hung up the phone. It was a typical April morning.  The shrill sun sending forth its beams through the light tinted glass of the windows. The continous chirping of the birds provided a pleasant if not joyous backdrop to a lazy morning. Ram’s mother was getting ready to leave for work and was in the midst of her usual hustle and bustle at this time every day. “So when is he coming?” she asked, more out of curiousity than mere concern. “5 in the evening at the station as usual.” Ram replied. It had been seven months since his father had filed for divorce. The day it happened, Ram like any other son living in the fantasy of a perfect family was shattered but with time he got used to it and what was utter disbelief and dejection at first, turned to courteous disregard as time wore on. His mother, like the firm believer in God, she was refused to employ a lawyer and presented her side of the case herself. The verdict went in her favor and the court saw no grounds to grant a divorce. Ram saw it as a triumph of courage and truth while his father saw it as a gender bias from the female judge.

“One, station” Ram bought his ticket as soon as he boarded the bus as he usually liked to do. He, though, didn’t like stepping out in the evening too much. The thought of the bus making its way through hordes of people made him want to stay home and watch people teeing off on the green instead. As he’d expected he got late owing to the traffic and saw his father waiting across the ticket counters. His father suggested going to the Irani café nearby to talk. Ashenfaced, Ram sat across his father in the café, his father, with whom he hadn’t had a decent conversation in over three years. “ So how is college?” his father asked. “Going pretty well” said Ram, as if reading from a script. “Here, this is 4000, keep it.”  His father said handing over an envelope. “Why don’t you ever call me? It’s always me calling you to check on you.” His father asked. “I’m really busy with college and my internship and so don’t really get the time.” Said Ram with a shrug of his shoulders as if to convince himself, more than his father. “Hmm. I’ve heard the chicken here is pretty good, you want something to eat?” asked his father. “Nah, I’m good.” Replied Ram almost as if wanting to end this awkward meeting”. “Okay so everything else fine?” “Mm Hmm.” “Okay then I’ll leave now. Do call me sometime okay?” “Mm okay.” Replied Ram, almost relieved that it was time to go now. After his father left, Ram decided to take a smoke. He’d been smoking now for two years oblivious to his mother of course. As he stood at the shanty , smoking, he wondered what his father would say if he saw him there smoking but, as was the case with all the other thoughts about his father, he put this one on the backburner too.
Time passed quickly, Ram was busy with his BMS classes and preparing for his imminent MBA entrance exams. 
                Meanwhile he and his mother were invited over at his aunt’s place to celebrate the occasion of his aunt’s 40th birthday. Knowing that his father would be present there along with the rest of their family with whom, he hadn’t really interacted much after the problems between his parents, Ram was quite reluctant to go. Eventually he ended up going after all since his aunt, with whom he was quite close since he was little, insisted on him coming. While greeting his family members after quite a long time, the awkwardness was quite palpable from his face and mannerisms. He talked a bit to his father, in the inhibited way he usually did and then mostly kept to himself and his earphones. “What are you listening to?” his 11 year old sister asked him. “Nothing, Just some music.””Can I play on your mobile?” “Alright but I don’t have many games, just one where you have to complete a jigsaw puzzle. Here I’ll show you how to play.” “Thanks so much bro!” “Its okay but be careful alright?” “Mm hmm” his sister replied, now completely engrossed in the game.
After dinner, he went into the room where all the men of the family were having a chat over few drinks. “Want something Ram?” his uncle asked him. Knowing his father was in the same room, Ram quite sheepishly asked what they were having. “Vodka” his uncle replied. “Have you ever had any?” “No.” lied Ram conveniently overlooking those birthday parties with his friends. “Here try a shot. Don’t worry I’ll talk to your father.” Ram, somewhat reassured now, had the pint. He saw his uncle talking to his father from a distance. Though he couldn’t actually guess what he said, but he could make out that his father looked quite okay with it. “So how many times have you had drinks before?” his father said as he sat next to him with his glass. “Just a couple of times, with friends, only beer though.” Ram replied nervously. “And your mother knows?” “No, you know her, she’ll just freak out. It’s okay though. I’m 19 now and I do it responsibly.” “ Do you know why I allowed you to drink here?” “No. Why?” “Because I know you are young and you will want to try things but at least I want you to try them in front of me rather than with people who you may think are your friends.” When his father said that Ram could only look up at him and smile. First time he had done that in years, he realized. “Ram, I know circumstances have been difficult for us lately, but I want you to think of me as a friend first. I always think that eases the gap between a father and a son and helps build trust. I know you’re a responsible kid but I also know trust is a two way street. I can’t expect you to trust me unless I trust you first. So anytime you need to talk about anything, you can come to me.” “Yes dad.” was all Ram could say, finding it hard to hide his surprise at his father’s words. Ram and his father talked some more and gradually Ram could feel the ice cracking after all these years. “Alright. I think I better sleep now. I have to leave for Bhopal tomorrow. I’ll be back in a week or so though.” His father said as he got up. “I’ll call you dad.” Ram said with a smile. Just then his sister came running into the room,” I did it bro! The puzzle is complete!”

This life is too short to mull over what’s wrong. Many a times the answers to all our questions are right there in front of us, but we are just too afraid or too rigid to recognize them J.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Of shiny pastels and mean 'taches

Once upon a time in Mumbaai begins with a disclaimer that the story is purely fictional and bears no resemblance to the life of Haji Mastan whatsoever, which ofcourse only buttresses the prevailing feeling that the movie is indeed a memoir of his life.
Ajay Devgan stars as Sultan who fulfils a meteoric rise from the life of a boy working in coal mines to the most powerful Don in the city. Emraan Hashmi stars as Shoaib, the son of a policeman, a brash and uncouth youngster who’s only aim in life is to be like Sultan. Although like always Devgn is compact in his performance, it is Hashmi who really rules the roost in this movie. He puts in a domineering performance as the young understudy and even exhibits miniscule shades of Tony Montana from Scarface. The female characters are pretty much relegated to pretty meaningless roles in this one and often border on helplessness which is really a huge chink in this film’s armor.
However the movie does adequately manage to recreate the atmosphere of 1950-60s Bombay with shiny pastels and old-fashioned sunglasses. The dialogues are crisp, however going overboard at times and bordering on ostentation. Although the movie does provide some good moments, it  eludes belief in some parts where everything seems to fall into place too easily. The background score is catchy however it is a riff you may have heard already.
To conclude Once upon a time in Mumbaai is a decent mafia flick and worth a single watch atleast considering the voluminous production of absolute non-watchers from Bollywood recently.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Mandatory Torture

My eyes filled with rage
As our story reaches the final page
My veins pulsate filled with hate
Today i hold your fate

My hands,I grip against your throat
I tighten them as you struggle and at you i gloat
As I choke the unfaithful life thats you
Your screams intensify as your face turns blue

I push you on the bed keeping you devoid of any air
Yeah on the same bed we made love but like i care
That day when i saw you with him and how you killed my love
My inner devil awoke and the story of your tragic end I wove

Blood starts to seep out from your mouth
As i willingly torture you in a way most uncouth
You die a painful death within the web of despisation i wove
Oh how i love you my dearest love

The Prostitute

Like every night.the red light burns
For her body,every soul entering yearns
At her beauty every visitor drools
The place illegally devoid of any rules

She knows this grave danger of a disease
But maybe this is the way she can earn with ease
Wonder I,sometimes if anyone there feels her pain
Everyone loaded with Benjamins,with pleasure in mind to gain

With no sense of emotion or feeling she opens her legs
She knows its wrong albeit she can earn more than someone who begs
Night after night the visitors change
A place so bright but in darkness does it range

At times i wonder what is hidden beneath all the fakeness
Unsurmountable must be her hurt knowing she is in such a mess
I wish i could free her all this
Take her far,far away,so her past she would never miss

Like every night,the red light burns
For her body,every soul entering yearns.

Wasted Life

Still remember rolling that first joint
Never imagined,then i would reach this no return point
I wish i knew i was in such strife
Never then would have i had to look back at such a wasted life

Rolling Marijuana,Hash,Cocaine
I felt i'd be oblivious to every pain
Putting on tapes of Floyd and Priest for company
Every night thus,i soothed my acrimony

Neglecting my loved ones my addiction for Mary jane continued
As my thinking became ridiculously lechorous and lewd
Irresistible was the feeling of getting high
I felt as though I,had wings and could fly

Lived my life too much on the extreme
Whisper these tears from this broken dream
I wish i knew i was in such strife
Never then would have i had to look back at such a wasted life


What do we gain from this war ?
Apart from bombing a city and lighting it up as a star
An old wise man once made a remark so witty
Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity

Havent we learned enough for the better ?
Or have we all forgotten the T(ruce) letter ?
In the news i see them bombing city after city
And this damn war seems to last for an eternity

As dave once sang,"Peace sells,but whos buying ?"
These words crop up in my mind as i see millions dying
Heard,when i was young,a pen is mightier than a sword
Well if it is why cant a war be stopped on our word ?

Momma let me rest in ur lap away from all this violence
And wake me up,wake me up only when there is silence
An old wise man once made a remark so witty
Bombing for peace is like fucking for virginity

Suicide Bomber

They call me a suicide Bomber
My job,to kill as many as i can
Be it a prince or a pauper
Cause the ultimate destruction of man

They say im a terrorist owing to my religion
So is that the only criterion to judge people of this legion ?
You taught me Mechanics and Gravity
But did anyone of you teach me Humanity ?

They say my soul is as black as hell
When for thousands,tolls the bell
They brand me as a traitor cunt
But where were they when our homes were burnt ?

Now as i lay dying,I look back at this with regret
I know it was avoidable but i accept my sins and wont fret
You taught me Mechanics and Gravity
But did anyone of you teach me Humanity ?

Dedicated to the victims of the 7/11 train bombings

Its been a year since the tragedy
And we still havent cured the malady
Thousands still die
And tears still dont dry

Someone lost a mother
and someone a brother
others lost a father
And still why do we act like we dont bother ?

With teary eyes i hope their soul rests in peace
And i hope we dont act like there is no life-lease
If we say we have done enough we are lying
Peace sells,but are we buying ?

As Dave armed with a guitar once sang
And those words like a bell in my head rang
"Killing for religion
Is something i dont understand"


A story from a broken home
With a pen of tears i pen down this peom
The anger hurts my ears
Wish we can look back and smile at this,post 20 years

This place now seems haunted
WIthout the feeling of being wanted
I wish i could get that feeling back
Feel so incomplete now with these things i lack

I wish things could be back as they were before
And only love,pure love,comes to the fore
The anger hurts my ears
Wish we can look back and smile at this,post 20 years

It hurts to see years of love fall apart
Seeing the ones you love depart
A story from a broken home
With a pen of tears,i pen down this poem

Monday, August 2, 2010


I wake up in the middle of the night
I know I'm diseased and this is just not right
My hands long for another victim
My face expressionless,palpably grim

My inner devil takes over me
Maybe killing is the only way i can set myself free
A spell is cast upon me
And i go on a killing spree

After taking my latest casualty
I look down upon the corpse with frailty
As my thrist for blood continues
When i wake up i wonder if some way i can pay my dues

No one is safe when i close my eyes
Like a phoenix from the fire,i rise
My inner devil takes over me
Maybe killing is the only way i can set myself free..